


Put the Lonesome on the Shelf (You & I)

by extasiswings



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: (oh my god they were roommates), Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Drama, Getting Together, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, and they were ROOMMATES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:18:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: When Lucy Preston gets cut off financially halfway through her doctoral program, it puts her in a bit of a bind. That is, until she comes up with the perfect solution.The name of the game is, "It Seemed Like A Great Idea At The Time."[Or: The one where Lucy and Flynn get married for the student financial aid.]





	Put the Lonesome on the Shelf (You & I)

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the other Marriage of Convenience AU I came up with. I imagine it will be a complete disaster.

Oh god.

Oh. God. 

Lucy stares up at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the urge to either cry or burst into a round of hysterical giggles while Flynn’s arm lies across her, a heavy weight around her waist. 

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she have been so stupid?

Unbidden, the memories from the night before rise up in her head—

—stumbling through the door, flushed and giggling, Flynn just as flushed but ever so slightly steadier on his feet—

—”Easy there, Lucy—” Flynn laughing and steadying her, Lucy teasing, “It’s _Dr. Preston_ now. Or is it Preston-Flynn?”—

—heat twisting low in her stomach as their eyes met, leaning up on her toes, god, she wanted him, _has_ wanted him for so long, Flynn freezing when she kissed him and then coming alive, pressing her against the wall in the hallway, helping her strip out of her clothes, asking if she was sure, touching her as though he—as though he really—

Lucy banishes the images, then carefully slips out from under Flynn’s arm, only looking back to make sure she hasn’t woken him before she goes to her own room to grab some clothes.

After a glance in the mirror leaves her with the impression that there’s nothing she can do quickly to make herself look anything other than decidedly well-fucked, she ties her hair back, throws on a scarf to hide the worst of the love bites, grabs her keys, and leaves. 

She’s not running away. She’s not. She’s a grown woman who is perfectly capable of facing a man she had really fantastic sex with the night before, a man who she very well might be in lo—

She’s not running away. She’s just...giving herself some space. 

If she nearly bursts into hysterical laughter again when her ring taps the steering wheel, that’s between her and God.

* * *

“Okay, I’m here, now tell me what this crisis is that made you drag me out of bed before 10AM on a Saturday,” Amy says as she slips into the booth across from her sister. “And one of those coffees had better be for me.”

Lucy slides the second cup across the table, fiddling with the cardboard cup holder on her own.

“I—” God, even just thinking about saying the words out loud puts her right back to where she started the morning—that combination of panic and incredulity. 

“What, did your adviser call you and say it was a mistake and you didn’t pass your dissertation defense after all?”

Lucy shakes her head. “No—no, it’s not school, it’s—”

“Mom? Grandpa? Emma?”

“I slept with Garcia.” It comes out in a rush, so quickly Lucy isn’t sure it’s intelligible. When she looks up, Amy is staring with a blank face. 

“And?”

“And—What do you mean, and?” Lucy asks, her brow furrowing. Isn’t it obvious? How is Amy so calm about this?

Amy shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Is there more? From your message it sounded like the world was ending. If you just wanted to dish about your sex life with your husband, we could have gotten dinner. Or gone to a bar. Both things that generally happen at night, for the record.”

“Amy…” Oh god. 

“What?” Amy asks. “It’s fine, I’m here now and all ears. But I am going to need a pastry if this isn’t an emergency.”

“I _slept_ with Garcia,” Lucy repeats, and it’s Amy’s turn to look confused. 

“Well...yeah, I got that, Luce. He’s your husband, it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve—”

A noise escapes her and Amy immediately cuts off as it clicks. 

“Oh...my god.”

Lucy puts her head in her hands.

“Oh my _god_! What? Wait, _never_? But he’s your—”

“If you say husband one more time, I swear, Ames,” Lucy interrupts, although it loses some force due to being mumbled into her palms. “It’s the twenty-first century—it’s not like someone was going to come take our marriage license away for not consummating it.”

Amy sits back in her chair, stares at her sister like she’s just claimed to be an alien from another planet, and then knocks the rest of her coffee back in a few solid gulps. 

“Okay,” she says decisively when she sets the empty cup down. "You wanted to, right? Just making sure that's not the issue here."

"Of course I wanted to!" Lucy blows out a breath and takes her hair down so she can run her hands through it. "I've wanted to for months, but this wasn't supposed to be real, it wasn't supposed to mean anything, and now I've gone and screwed everything up and oh, god, Amy, what if he hates me?"

Amy presses her lips together, considering, then pushes her chair back. "Right. Get up. Because I was not wrong about one thing—this is clearly a conversation that requires booze. So. New plan. We’re going to brunch, my treat, we’re going to have several mimosas, and you’re going to start from the beginning and explain how you’ve been _married_ for nearly a _year_ and somehow managed to abstain from climbing your very tall and extremely attractive husband like a tree until, apparently, last night. Take your coffee, up you get.” 

From the beginning. Right. That’s something Lucy can explain. She can definitely, completely, fully explain. 

Mostly. 

“Well, it started when mom cut me off…”


End file.
